Page 4 of A Package Deal

Between getting the girls to school and registered—completing endless paperwork in the process—and covering for his sales manager who was out sick with the flu, he’d made zero progress on finding after-school activities for the girls. Nelie was doing him, and them, a favor and he didn’t want to impose any longer than necessary. Plus, it gave him a legitimate excuse to see her. As long as Nelie had the girls, he had a reason to see her, and she’d have to deal with him.

The Galley was quiet as he made his way toward the bar, but it was early still. On the weekends, every table in the middle and the booths lining the back and side wall would be full. Patrons would be three deep along the bar, which took up the left-hand side of the room, and large monitors were hung around the room.

Nelie had a rule that the monitors were only on for Minnesota professional sports—the Vikings, Wild, Timberwolves, Lynx, Twins, and United FC—and the University of Minnesota Golden Gophers games. Even though Wisconsin sat on the other side of the Poplar River, the Galley never streamed the Green Bay Packers unless they were playing the Vikings.

There were a few pool tables and dart boards in a room tucked off to the right and the restrooms past that. The kitchen hid behind the swinging doors at the end of the bar in the back corner. The restaurant faced Main Street, and no matter how much natural light streamed through the oversized windows, it couldn’t brighten the dark wood interior.

One night, Nelie had confessed to him she hated the Galley’s heavy, dark, feel, and she was forever looking for inexpensive ways to brighten it up, like using light-colored napkins, bright flowers on each table, white tableware, and the staff wore bright T-shirts with sky-blue waist aprons, the same color as Nelie’s eyes, but he doubted she’d made that connection.

“’Sup?” Eric greeted him. “Looking for your little monkeys?”

“Just you wait. Right now, Owen stays where you leave him, but in about seven or eight months, he’ll be crawling, and you’ll be playing the find-my-kid game.” Eric beamed at hearing his newborn son’s name. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks. Everyone warns you about it, but man, until you’re living it…” Eric shook his head. Chet wasn’t sure if Eric had intended to trail off or if he’d lost his train of thought. He remembered those early sleep-deprived months with both girls. The days of not knowing if he was coming or going.

“You’ll get through it. We all do,” Chet said, feeling wiser than his forty-eight years.

“Your girls are in the kitchen with Nelie,” Eric said, ripping a drink order from the printer. Chet nodded his thanks and headed toward the swinging kitchen doors, reminding himself to use the one on the right. He didn’t want to collide with an outgoing server carrying a full tray of food. Nelie would skin him alive, and his daughters would never let him hear the end of it.

Laughter floated over the usual busy kitchen noises. Nelie and the girls were tucked into what Nelie called her baking corner. Chet almost tripped when Ava looked up and smiled at him. He’d forgotten how a smile transformed her from his little Eeyore into a ray of sunshine. “Hi, Daddy,” she said, and his heart stuttered. She rarely called him that anymore, and when she did, it was usually because she wanted something. But here? Now? It sounded like pure love and innocence.

“Hi, kiddo.” He dropped a kiss on top of her head, reaching around her and snatching a spice-covered apple slice.

“Daddy, that’s for the pudding”—she covered the bowl with her hands—“and you need to wash first.”

“Pudding?”

“The apple bread pudding,” Ava said, with a silentduhat the end.

“With whisper sauce,” Piper said from the small table in the corner.

“Whiskey sauce,” Ava corrected, sighing heavily. Nelie looked up from her end of the stainless-steel counter, fighting a smile, and they shared an amused look before she frowned and darted her eyes toward Piper, as if remembering she wasn’t supposed to like him.

Piper laughed at something Nelie said, and Chet marveled at Nelie’s ability to multitask. How she could frost a cake, monitor the kitchen staff, show Ava how to do whatever she was doing with the apples, and amuse Piper was beyond him. Was she a born multitasker, or had she learned it the hard way growing up in the family restaurant business?

“What’s your last spelling word, sweetheart?” Nelie asked, setting the offset spatula against the inside edge of the frosting bowl.

“Cranky. C-R-A-N-K-Y.”

“And use it in a sentence?”

“Daddy is cranky without his morning coffee.” Everyone laughed, even Ava.

“That doesn’t look like your usual Mother Lode chocolate cake,” Chet said, pointing at the dessert, wanting to change the topic.

“It’s not. I thought I’d mix it up and try something new, so I’m practicing with a black forest cake for February.”

Chet grabbed his heart dramatically, and leaned against the counter, saying, “No, don’t take it away.”

“Don’t worry, drama queen. The black forest will bejoiningthe menu. Sheesh,” Nelie said over her shoulder as she carried the cake to the refrigerator where she kept all the desserts. She looked at the clock and raised her brow.

Chet clapped his hands. “Okay, girls, it’s time to go. Ava, wash your hands. Piper, would you like an assist?” Piper tended to daydream and get distracted, but she refusedhelp. He’d found better luck with the wordassist. He didn’t need her to leave any of her schoolwork in the Galley’s kitchen. It would take them extra time in the morning to stop for it—time they didn’t have—and Nelie wouldn’t appreciate the interruption. Plus, he needed to act like he had this full-time dad gig figured out, even though he felt like he was flying with a broken instrument panel.

“I’ve got it,” Piper neatened her papers before shoving them into her animal-covered backpack. “What’s for dinner? I’m starved.”

“Senor Wu’s,” Chet said, as guilt niggled at him. They’d spent all that time at the grocery store yesterday, but he’d been focused on breakfast and lunch staples. Tonight, after the girls went to bed, he’d take an inventory of the kitchen and make a plan for the rest of the week.

“Senor Who?” Piper asked.

---